


Saddled

by ruru_u



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Graphic Violence, ikkayumi, mentions of ruri/yumi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1432456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruru_u/pseuds/ruru_u
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yumichika chose Ikkaku over his own zanpakuto and has never looked back. However, a serious injury has Ruri'iro Kujaku unable to manifest into sword form until his master reconsiders this decision. Can the emotionally twisted bird spirit break through to Yumichika before the damage to their shared soul is irreparable?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wounded

**Author's Note:**

> TW: This story will discuss a bit of sex as a commodity, with possible non-con but nothing graphic.
> 
> Other triggers, as marked, include (minor) violence & gore.

As much as Ikkaku loved to fight, slaughtering weak hollows could become pretty boring after a while. “MAN, what a pain!” he barked as two more emerged from the woods. “Where the fuck are they all coming from?”

A nest of hollows had emerged in North Rukongai, wreaking havoc on nearby villages. Their numbers were dwindling fast with high ranking officers of Squad 11 on the case, but so far Ikkaku had counted at least thirty. “Man,” he repeated. “What a fuckin’ pain…”

Before he could take care of the next one, a zanpakuto swung down from above and sliced it into nothing. “Aw, come on!” Ikkaku growled, throwing his arms down in defeat and glaring up at the one who stole his kill. “That was mine ya know!”

Yumichika stopped midair and flipped his hair back in a typical display of arrogance. “Ikkaku, whining is very-”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘ugly’, _whatever!_ Get outta my way!” He flash-stepped past the smug bastard, spinning Hozukimaru deliberately close to his pretty face. Of course the other man took no notice, having already chosen his next target and dodged in the process of pursuit. Within moments, he stood where the hollow should have been, watching its form dissolve into the humid air.

Yumichika turned to find his partner conspicuously calculating on his fingertips, face scrunched in concentration. “You’re falling behind,” he confirmed with a smirk.

Ikkaku grunted in reply and leaped over an advancing hollow, whipping the naginata above his head for leverage. These small fries were starting to bore him, but, orders were orders. At least the little contest he and Yumichika struck up kept things vaguely interesting.

With a shrill cry, the last hollow finally dissipated. Ikkaku sighed obnoxiously to signal his relief and hit the ground, throwing in a few arm stretches for good measure as Yumichika looked around to verify that their mission had been successful.

“Orders?” he asked, landing a few feet in front of Ikkaku.

“Get to the captain, I guess.” He tilted his head in the direction of Kenpachi Zaraki’s unmistakable spiritual pressure, and grinned. “Seems like he’s havin’ fun.”

The pair arrived to find Zaraki laughing joyously as he sparred against some devilish creature. Ikkaku sheathed his sword and watched with little interest as the captain dodged a particularly lethal-looking hook. Interference was a sure way to get cleaved in half, he thought, and besides, this hollow wouldn’t last much longer.

“Shouldn’t you keep your guard up?” Yumichika glanced at Ikkaku with feigned nonchalance.

“Ehhhh, Captain’s got it covered. Anyway, we ain’t allowed to step in.”

“I know that,” Yumichika replied - but a nagging sense of anxiety had settled in his bones. He kept the grip tight, holding off on allowing Fujikujaku to revert out of shikai. Trust in one’s superiors only went so far if you didn’t keep focused; Yumichika knew this well enough to give intuitive feelings at least _some_ consideration. His stare rested on the ugly, spidery hollow suffering his captain’s euphoric swings.

“Ken-chan’s having fun!” Yachiru shouted from her perch in a nearby tree. Arms crossed, Yumichika glanced her way, smiling despite his frayed nerves. That statement could only mean one thing: _this one was tough_. No wonder their squad - rather than one of the weak ones - had been called out to remove it. The simple fact that Yachiru sat on the sidelines instead of Zaraki’s shoulder further confirmed its destructive skill.

And then that ominous feeling flared up with a vengeance. Their hollow, gathering its last bit of strength, had also taken notice of Yachiru’s exclamation. The glint in its eye made Yumichika’s muscles tense, ready to spring into action.

It was planning something…

Ikkaku frowned to himself and slowly straightened up. His hand instinctively cupped Hōzukimaru’s hilt, only glancing to the side momentarily for a meaningful look with Yumichika. Yes, the monster was watching them. It had its sights set on –

“LIEUTENANT!”

Had Yumichika thought a moment longer, he would have reconsidered. Yachiru could take care of herself. To do what he had just done was to break one of the most important rules in Squad 11: _Never step into another soldier’s fight_. Battles must be fought one-on-one. To take a hit meant for another was to strip them of their pride.

_I’m sorry…_

Blood poured down his front, from his mouth. A breath he tried to take closed before it could satisfy.

As his eyes trailed down to assess the damage, he committed the sight to memory like a photograph. They were about ten feet off the ground, right where the hollow had been aiming its spear-like leg at Yachiru, who by this time had already flash-stepped out of the way. His four-pronged sword had managed to block one spike, but not the other two, which were currently embedded in his torso. Afraid to drop the zanpakutō and bring even more dishonor to himself, Yumichika gathered what little strength remained to hold it tight.

Knuckles whitened at the grip, so flimsy it shook like a leaf. No matter their differences and long-standing disagreements, he and this weapon were one. They shared a soul, imprinted on each other every aspect of who they were, and needed this connection more than either cared to admit anymore. One moment the sword was his last hold to reality, and the next, it had disappeared into a blurry mist.

Blackness concealed his vision, leaving his hand to grope the air in a futile search for the zanpakutō. Its presence had gone. No trace was left for him to cling to. Yumichika grit his teeth against the stomach-turning emptiness. _Ruri’iro Kujaku… no…_

Finally a jerking sensation told him that the hollow, too, had disappeared, probably cut down by the captain. Yumichika braced himself for a painful impact that never came – instead, warm arms gathered him into a careful but frantic embrace.

“Shhhh-shhh-shhhh-sh-sh, come ‘ere, Yumi, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

Coughing up a mouthful of blood, his first thought was _What an ugly way to go_. Ikkaku’s fingers gently pushed a few strands of hair to the side, tucking them behind his ear, then rested at the jaw to hold his head in place. Immense pain radiated from his wounds, but Ikkaku’s arms wrapped tightly around him brought just as much comfort. The strong, familiar spiritual pressure encompassed him like a warm bath, providing just the strength necessary to crack open both eyes. Fear was shining through Ikkaku’s determined expression.

Any attempt to speak resulted in more coughing, more mess. He kept quiet. There wasn’t much to say anyway.

 _This is it,_ he thought somewhat blankly. _I did it. I kept my secret. Ikkaku and the captain never found out about Ruri’iro Kujaku. I’m taking it with me after all._ Tears pricked at his eyes, surprising him to no end, accompanied by a sick heaviness in his gut. This was an old, unusual feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to experience in many decades: regret.

“I’ve got you,” came Ikkaku’s voice. “You’re gonna be just fine. No freakin’ out, alright?” His warm palm pressed down against Yumichika’s hairline as the fifth seat held onto reality for dear life. _This is no time to dwell on what can’t be changed_ , he scolded himself. _Ikkaku is saying something, listen to him! Listen, you idiot!_

Yumichika’s eyes rolled back as the world around him spun and tipped. Ikkaku’s hand brushed over his forehead once more, then down to the curve of his neck. He could no longer make out the words being spoken around him, but let the gentle tone soothe on its own. Those arms suddenly began to shake him like a rag doll, frantic shouts drifting through his subconscious. A massive hand pressed against him then, surrounding him in an unmistakably dense spiritual pressure.

“Captain.” Yumichika briefly wondered whether he’d said the word aloud or simply mouthed it - if even that. Lieutenant Kusajishi was there as well, her head resting against his shoulder as Ikkaku finally ceased his panic-stricken attempts at revival. None of their reiatsu contained a hint of the anger or shame he’d expect to result from such blatant disregard for division policy.

 _I never found out what would happen_ , he realized. _Would they all hate me if they knew? Would they make me leave if I showed them Ruri’iro Kujaku? They think they’re going to miss me, but maybe they wouldn’t… if they knew…_

Yachiru’s small hand found its way to his sleeve and gripped tightly. She seemed so calm and sure. He smiled to himself. This little kid was so much stronger than the rest of them combined, which was why he hated himself for what he’d done. She would have been okay. If he’d been in the right mindset, he would have known that. Lately, though, Yumichika just hadn’t been in his game – he’d been distracted, clumsy... And now he would die for it.

Fear nipped at the back of his mind, but, thinking these were his final moments in this life, he wouldn’t allow it to take over. Instead, he simply sighed, resigning himself to ignore the sinking sensation and go peacefully, cradled in the arms of his best friend, familiar heart beating in his ear. At this point he was as ready as he could have been. He felt his fingers twitch against the soft fabric of Ikkaku’s kosode, felt his head tucking into the warmth of his chest. Had preparing for this really made any difference? Apparently not… because this wasn’t the ideal, heroic death he’d hoped for himself.

And Ruri’iro Kujaku wasn’t even there to experience it with him.

* * *

Ikkaku gaped silently. He wasn’t quite sure what to do or say.

Yumichika’s spiritual pressure was nearly zero and he no longer reacted to outside stimulus. The third seat wracked his brain, trying to think of something, _anything_ that might make his friend wake up and talk to him; he’d tried compliments, begging, even shaking him and screaming like an idiot child, but nothing worked.

Captain Zaraki sat beside them, one hand on Yumichika’s shoulder and the other on Yachiru. He hadn’t said a word so far. Didn’t feel the need. He wanted to flee the heavy atmosphere as much as he wanted to stay for Ikkaku’s sake. Anyone with half a brain could see how close those two were; he shouldn’t have to suffer alone, not when Yachiru was the one Yumichika had been protecting.

“Hey, Ikka-chan?” Yachiru piped up, breaking the deafening silence. Ikkaku’s wide eyes slowly trailed her way. “Don’t be sad, okay?”

Ikkaku’s brows knit together in confusion. Since when did the shrimp call him anything but Baldy or Cue-ball or some other idiotic nickname? Her little hand was reaching up to him, so he took it on instinct, fingers stained with blood, but of course she didn’t care. Her dark pink eyes blinked up at him, expression unchanging, seemingly waiting for a response. But Ikkaku couldn’t speak. He returned his gaze to Yumichika’s ashen face, clinging to those last bits of spiritual pressure. His head shook from side to side for a moment as if denying the situation were real. Yumichika was strong; he couldn’t die because of some dumb hollow. No way! Ikkaku was just overreacting. Fujikujaku had disappeared to conserve spiritual pressure, which meant he was gonna be alright. _Yeah, everything’s fine._ Besides, they were _warriors_. They were _ready_! They were always ready!

Yet the more he looked at the limp form in his arms, not reacting in his typical fashion to the terrible blood stains and obvious potential for scarring, seeing Yachiru’s eyes filled with pity, the more that awful feeling sunk deep in his chest.

Yumi couldn’t die… They were just having fun a few minutes ago…

Ikkaku tightened his grip on both Yachiru and Yumichika. _No way_. No way he could handle this. His head dipped low to hide an expression of agony he knew wouldn’t come across as very strong, had his captain and lieutenant seen. _If you die,_ he thought angrily, teeth biting deep into his tongue, _I’ll kill you._


	2. Drifting Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yumichika is concerned about the future when 3 weeks pass without Ruri'iro Kujaku regenerating. He believes he will lose his rank and his relationship with Ikkaku if something doesn't happen soon. A sudden visit to his inner world only makes matters worse.

Three weeks.

Those three long, agonizing weeks consisted of sleeping off pain remedies and trying to sort rational thoughts from the fog, and Ruri’iro Kujaku should have restored himself a long time ago. His absence was beginning to wear Yumichika thin.

He’d been anxious from the first moment of regained consciousness, even asking for the sword outright instead of his usual request for a brush and mirror. The healers assured him his zanpakutō would return in a day or two. His binding chain and soul sleep had not been damaged, so all he had to do was rest and stabilize. It can been a close call, they told him; but nothing to worry about.

Why did Ruri’iro Kujaku refuse to regenerate? Was Yumichika so disconnected that he couldn’t see this coming? It may have been broken, but zanpakutō _always_ came back once the wielder’s spiritual pressure returned to normal.

No one seemed to have any answers but to wait; and the more he waited, the more he understood this was no normal circumstance.

Once released from Squad 4, Yumichika went straight to the forges in District 1 North where smiths created new Asauchi. He could tell by the way the men had looked at him that uncertainty was the best news he could possibly receive now.

Captain Zaraki didn’t even know his zanpakutō’s _name_ , but Yumichika sought him for counsel next. The mountain of a man simply grunted and pointed him out the door, ordering his officer to rest until he regained his strength. Yumichika hadn’t the guts to ask what would happen to his position if the sword didn’t restore itself.

Ikkaku had a good relationship with his zanpakutō. They were very much alike, and both Yumichika and Ruri’iro Kujaku held a deep affection for Hozukimaru. He liked to watch the sword in action, along with Ikkaku, moving so fluidly and with great confidence and grace. The third seat’s dismissive answers were especially discouraging.

Late into Yumichika’s supposed recovery, the two sat outside the barracks as they often did, drinking heated sake and watching the sunset. Ikkaku’s arm rested heavily across his shoulders. He brought him close, lips and nose pressed onto his hair, fighting off the darkness that seemed to surround him lately. “Fujikujaku’s just takin’ his time,” he spoke softly, shaking the other back and forth just a bit. “He’ll come back. I know he will.”

“If… if he doesn’t,” Yumichika had ventured, “I can’t be a shinigami anymore.” He gave the statement a moment to settle in before glancing Ikkaku’s way. “What would happen to us then?”

Ikkaku’s arm slowly moved off of his back, leaving it cold. In the dim evening light, Yumichika could see his jaw working like it did when he thought hard. He seemed to be searching his mind for a comforting statement, finally settling on: “Tch, that’s ridiculous. Yer makin’ yourself crazy worryin’ about the worst case scenario.”

Yumichika stared into his cup. “Will you just answer? It’s been on my mind a lot lately.”

Ikkaku’s hand settled on his back again, rubbing up and down. “You afraid we won’t be friends anymore? We’ll always be friends,” he said. He hadn’t mentioned any other aspect of their relationship, but then again, everything they did together – talking, sparring, eating, sleeping, bathing, sex – fit neatly under Ikkaku’s definition of “friendship”.

All the decisions Yumichika had made were meant to keep Ikkaku by his side. For a long time, his greatest fear had been a forced transfer due to his kidō weapon. Even if his fear proved rational and his superiors lost their respect for him, they could at least remain acquaintances and comrades. Leaving Seireitei altogether meant something else entirely. He might never see Ikkaku again at all - a terrifying notion.

Yumichika didn’t want to be anyone’s pity project or live on the sidelines like some secret fling, while Ikkaku saw all the action they were supposed to experience together. That seemed so much worse, but he’d never entertained the thought before.

Their conversation ended before he could lay his real worries down.

On the first warm day of Spring, Yumichika decided to catch up on some sleep; constant self-doubt could get tiresome, after all, and Ikkaku wouldn’t be back from training duty until nightfall. So the heartsick and exhausted man crawled under a pile of blankets and closed his eyes.

He fell into a dream, vague and feverish, and found awareness in a familiar place: his inner world. The relief was like a punch to his chest.

Ruri’iro Kujaku’s tent lay right ahead; it was a decent-sized structure standing among the grass, loose tapestry snapping in the breeze. Its fabric shone azure as a peacock’s breast, door flaps fitted with dark red braided tie-backs and tassels. This was a permanent fixture in Yumichika’s inner world. Kujaku could always be found curled up in here among his horde of possessions like some dragon, sleeping beneath a pile of blankets and feathers, facing the collection of mirrors, ink wells, obi, jewelry, cushions, and other odds and ends. Before things had gone downhill the two would spend quite a lot of time in there together. Yumichika could find comfort in the dark and cozy structure with his soul mate; its beauty was out of place among the rest of this dimension.

The shinigami stood outside, trying to process the fact that his zanpakutō might be alive. Ruri’iro Kujaku could probably already sense him so there was no point putting off their reunion any longer. It wasn’t as if three weeks was the longest they’d gone without speaking.

Sunlight poured in through the flaps as he separated them. It was empty.

 _Relax_ , he told himself when panic began to creep in. _He could be anywhere… I’ve just got to find him_.

Yumichika turned back toward the creek. Sometimes Ruri’iro Kujaku spent time there as well, watching the fish or just meditating. There was no sign of him.

By now, the zanpakutō should have shown himself in one way or another. His spiritual pressure was not apparent in the atmosphere. Anger and worry churned in Yumichika’s gut as he continued to search, pace quickening at each failed attempt. He even checked the empty battlefield out of desperation; neither he nor his sword found that bloody junkyard of decay and stagnant pools very beautiful, so, predictably, he wasn’t there either.

The surrounding area was just as dismantled. Buildings abandoned for centuries, crawling with wisteria vines that had sucked the life out of any other potential climbers, lined a dusty street. Most of the houses no longer had doors, windows, or even roofs. It looked like a place where some destructive force had wiped out all life. Stick-like trees sprung up from the dirt floors, moss covering stony walls, birds and bugs scurrying about.

Yumichika had never been overly pleased with having such a location in his inner world, but he would have spent all day slogging through it if Ruri’iro Kujaku was there.

“Stupid peacock!” He growled to himself and rubbed his temples. _Where is that bastard? Enough is enough…_

If he really had called him here just to make him search aimlessly, he’d pay big time! Unacceptable! And if he really had been destroyed – Yumichika was not about to entertain such a thought after his hopes were raised before.

While walking back through the battlefield, Yumichika managed to trip over a helmet sticking out of the dirt and land flat on his knees, barely escaping an even messier incident by grabbing an old spear for support. The wooden shaft snapped in his hand and sent his palms into a puddle of mud. He froze for a moment, then let out a resigned sigh and sat back on his heels. A small flock of birds passed overhead. Yumichika tilted his head back to watch them and ended up in quite a pitiful position, staring at the sky and wishing there was someone up there to hear his complaints. “Ruri’iro Kujaku,” he groaned. “The game is over, just come out, please…”

“Yumichika.”

Gasping, he looked up on instinct, all traces of anger gone. It wasn’t his zanpakutō’s voice, but certainly a welcome one.

“Ey, wake up.”

The landscape around him began to blur and swirl out of focus. He squeezed his eyes shut; when they opened, they quickly focused on Ikkaku’s face.

“Nnng… What time is it?” Yumichika asked groggily. Ikkaku helped him sit up, then lowered himself to the bed beside him.

“Sun just set. You been sleepin’ all day?” Ikkaku asked, letting his fingers curl protectively over Yumichika’s head.

“Actually, I was in my inner world… but I couldn’t find Fujikujaku,” he added before Ikkaku could get his hopes up.

Apparently Ikkaku didn't consider his zanpakutō’s absence a bad omen. “Hey, that’s great!” he said, shaking Yumichika back and forth a bit. “We should go somewhere, you know, to celebrate. You look like you could use some air.”

Although he didn’t feel like getting up at the moment, Yumichika complied. He slipped out of bed and promptly sat himself at the vanity mirror to check his hair for imperfections, watching Ikkaku stand up and stretch from the corner of his eye. “Rough day training?” Yumichika asked as he licked his thumb and started rubbing at the adhesive holding his feathers in place. They had gotten loose from how much he’d been sweating under those covers, though he’d never admit to something so uncivilized.

Ikkaku sighed as he walked over to where Yumichika sat. He wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him, hoping to lighten up the dense spiritual pressure coming from his soul. “Yeah, you know how it is. Woulda’ been easier if you were there.” He gave a gentle squeeze. “It shouldn’t be too much longer now, right? You got into your inner world, so Fujikujaku’s okay.”

Yumichika finished pulling off his feathers. He hoped that spiteful bird could hear Ikkaku misnaming him. “Did you think he wasn’t?” he asked.

“Course not. I told ya everything’d be fine.”

“Hmm. Well, don’t get your hopes up. I searched everywhere, and couldn’t sense him at all.” He let Ikkaku drape an arm over his shoulder and slammed the door shut behind them.

“Whatever you say. Just try to take it as a good sign.”

Yumichika complained about his partner’s locker room stench until they reached the bath house just inside East Gate, where lots of rich folk liked to cleanse themselves in privacy. The tubs were quite small and intimate. At this time of night, most people were having dinner, so the two of them were able to reserve a room without waiting. Normally Squad 11’s communal bath worked fine (and as seated officers they often had it to themselves), but, as Ikkaku had mentioned, Yumichika needed to get out for a while.

They changed into robes just to take them off again, Ikkaku letting his fall carelessly to the floor while Yumichika smiled and hung his neatly on the wall. It was nice to spend some time alone. Things just weren’t the same if they couldn’t work and fight together.

After rinsing the dirt and grime from himself, Ikkaku stepped into the tub and started splashing warm water onto his arms and chest. Yumichika stepped in behind him and stopped his hands. “Here, let me.”

Ikkaku straightened his back out a bit and held still, slowly relaxing into Yumichika’s touch as he rubbed warm water over his sore spots, massaging gently. “Hmmmmmm,” Ikkaku hummed in approval. He was glad for the few moments of peace with his favorite person. These past few weeks had been hard on both of them - They deserved a break, even if they’d just go back to feeling shitty when it ended.

Ikkaku had felt totally helpless for the past few weeks. It wasn’t the first time either of them had been near death, but experiencing such fear never got easier. The loss of Yumichika’s zanpakutō was just an added layer of horribleness. He grunted when those soft yet strong hands started working away tension in his shoulders, massaging expertly. A couple newbies had managed to land a few blows on him, but he chose not to mention this little detail. Without his friend there to watch him it was hard to concentrate.

Ikkaku’s mind turned to their talk a few nights ago. Lately, he just didn’t know what to say to ease Yumichika’s mind. If he were in that position, what would he want to hear? He couldn’t imagine how much it might hurt to lose a zanpakutō. The few times Hōzukimaru had disappeared on him, it hadn’t taken long for him to regain form, though during the time between his heart had felt heavy and sick. Even Ryumon Hōzukimaru had regenerated over time, though it would never reach its former glory. He had yet to face what Yumichika did now: the thought of losing his seat, possibly even his status as a soul reaper if he didn’t want to pick up an Asauchi and work in logistics forever.

Ikkaku opened his eyes, watching the water ripple gently with their small movements. What could he say? How could he convince his friend that everything would be alright when he himself didn’t believe it? He bit his lips, chest twisting. Denial could only take them so far. Captain Zaraki had told him a few days ago that sooner or later, they’d have to “do something” about the fifth seat if he didn’t regain his weapon soon. Ikkaku had convinced him to give the guy some time… but that was running out quickly. Knowing the nature of their relationship, Zaraki figured Ikkaku would be best to speak with him about it. It just wasn’t an easy conversation to start.

\- But, maybe now he wouldn’t have to! Yumichika had claimed his inner world was still there, which meant – well, honestly, Ikkaku wasn’t sure what that meant. It could have been a dream anyway; Yumi had been asleep, after all. He tried to hold onto some renewed hope while it lasted.

When Yumichika had asked what would happen between them, Ikkaku had to think. He would gladly continue their relationship and see him whenever possible, sneak him into the barracks, cause trouble, make love, have fun just like they used to – only he knew that wouldn’t work forever. If Yumichika was no longer a shinigami, _everything_ would change. No more missions together, no more fighting together, no more sharing their lives. He didn’t want that. Of course Yumichika would stay as long as possible, but at what point would the other man grow tired of crossing lines and move on to a new life?

Yumichika touched his cheek lightly to signify he was done, then cracked his knuckles and dipped his hands in the water to start washing himself. Ikkaku smiled and turned to face him, gaining an inquisitive look before kissing him deeply on the mouth. He was sick of thinking about this stuff now.

Yumichika grinned. He seemed to be in a good mood, but the spiritual pressure Ikkaku felt around him betrayed appearances. He cupped the shorter man’s face and kissed him again, slowly, pressing their foreheads together and tucking some damp hair behind his ears. The water was making him sweat all over again. “C’mere,” he said gruffly, pulling Yumichika into a loose embrace. After so long, they were just as comfortable naked around each other as they were clothed, so it was a welcome feeling to get close. Yumichika chuckled softly as Ikkaku’s mouth moved over his, pulling shoulders close from behind, rocking him gently in his arms as their lips played.

Absently, Ikkaku let his hand lower to his friend’s stomach, fingers tracing his abs to dip into his belly button. Yumichika swallowed a gasp and pushed him away with sudden force.

“I’m sorry!” Ikkaku blurted, placing both hands on Yumichika’s shoulders for balance. “Shit, I’m sorry, Yumi… Guess I forgot.”

“No, it’s okay,” Yumichika breathed, feeling a bit shaken. His two healed wounds were still a bit tender after Squad 4’s kidō treatments, but more than that was the memory fresh. The dreadful feeling of being alone in his inner world, of wandering around that ugly place trying to find Ruri’iro Kujaku, had flashed through his mind at Ikkaku’s touch. “My stomach hurts a little… I didn’t mean to lose control like that. It wasn’t very beautiful.”

Ikkaku couldn’t help but smile. “It’s okay. Turn around, lemme get your back.”

After that bit of awkwardness, Yumichika felt compelled to change the subject from his injury. “So,” he breathed, smoothing his hair down as Ikkaku began rubbing between his shoulder blades. “Has Squad 11 utterly fallen apart yet? I imagine there’s a lot of paperwork since none of those simpletons can file a report to save their lives.”

“Heh, yeah.”

Yumichika stared up at the ceiling, fidgeting a bit as Ikkaku’s calloused fingers worked at his weakened muscles. “I’m not looking forward to that,” he mused.

Ikkaku hummed a reply and kissed the back of his friend’s neck. He felt a bit guilty for enjoying a long massage when Yumichika was the one who needed relaxation – and even more guilty for what he was about to say. But it had to come out eventually. “So, I talked to the captain. Even if Fujikujaku doesn’t come back for a while, you’ll still be able to stay in Squad 11, I’ll make sure a’ that. Just go talk to him when you get the time.” He refused to suggest the sword wouldn’t return at all.

Yumichika’s disposition changed right away. His shoulders tensed up and his head tilted forward, away from Ikkaku’s wrists. “What do you mean?” came the sharp reply. “Squad 11 is for strong men only. I can’t stay if I have no sword to fight with.”

“You _are_ strong, though. You coulda’ kicked any of those guys’ asses today, even without a zanpakutō. Shit, you could probably take ‘em all without a wooden sword. I’ve seen you throw a man twice your size and not even break a sweat.”

Yumichika’s lips tightened into a thin line. “But that’s not all there is to it,” he argued. “I can’t fight hollows without a zanpakutō, or perform konsō. I won’t be able to go on missions to the living world anymore, or to the Rukongai, or protect…” his voice caught. The thought of losing all that made his life meaningful began to sink in. Angry tears stung at his eyes, and with one more word they would fall freely.

Ikkaku swallowed, slowing his ministrations down a bit. “Come on, don’t be like that. It’s not so bad-”

“Yes it _is_ , Ikkaku! Denying the problem won’t make it go away!” Yumichika snapped, groaning in exasperation and hiding his face in tightly folded arms. Ikkaku mentally kicked himself for ruining his partner’s relaxation, but there had to be a way to salvage things. “Besides,” Yumichika continued, “I’ll have to give up my ranking at some point and become an unseated, underpaid, underappreciated minion.”

Ikkaku kissed his silky hair, then began smoothing it back using handfuls of the warm water. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean you can’t train new recruits, or help with paperwork and healing and stuff like that. You won’t have to leave the squad. We’ll figure somethin’ out, is all I’m saying.”

“And all _I’m_ saying is that Captain Zaraki won’t want me around anymore if I can’t fight. Are you daft or something? Sure I can knock some of the weaklings around now and then, but what good does that do if I’m not their superior? Nobody wants to learn from some untitled failure who doesn’t even have a sword. How can I get stronger? How can I even maintain the strength I have now? Without Fujikujaku, it’s over.” The real reason he felt so terrible finally crept in. “And it’s not just that,” Yumichika managed. “I… I thought he’d be there waiting for me today like he always is. Even when we’re mad at each other, he’s there no matter what. I could always sense him, and communicate with him, and use his power… I know I complained about him a lot, but he… he… I only said all those things because... I don't even know anymore.”

Now the tears were falling and it was too late to stop. He gasped and drew his knees in closer, trying to maintain some control over himself.

Ikkaku leaned in to hug him from behind, resting his cheek on Yumichika’s back. He linked their fingers together, beginning a slow rhythm of running his thumb over the other’s, trying in vain to quiet his broken sobs, whispering against his skin, punctuating each statement with a kiss. It had been years, decades even, since he’d last seen his friend cry.

The walk home was silent.

After forcing down a rice ball and some weak tea, Yumichika sat up in bed while Ikkaku slept beside him, one arm draped over his stomach. He let it stay. The warmth felt nice through the fabric of his yukata, and besides, Ikkaku didn’t mind scars.

Staring at the sleeping man, Yumichika reached down to run his knuckles against his cheek and jaw. Ikkaku’s presence usually sufficed to soothe any hurt, physical or otherwise, but somehow this time was different. Even as he lowered himself down toward his companion, who he _loved_ , for whom he’d sacrificed _so much_ , he could only think of seeing Ruri’iro Kujaku again. None of the things for which he’d cruelly shoved the zanpakutō aside even mattered if he was gone.

Yumichika squeezed his eyes shut tighter and breathed in Ikkaku’s gentle, familiar scent. He kissed the chest pushing against his lips. _Enjoy it while it lasts_ , he told himself. _Just like always._

His eyes opened to the sight of grass blowing in the wind, perpetual sunlight reflecting off of Ruri’iro Kujaku’s tent.

The door was open.


	3. Molt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yumichika's long-awaited reunion with Ruri'iro Kujaku doesn't go the way he'd hoped, and may have left him with more questions than answers...

“Ruri’iro Kujaku?”

No response. 

Yumichika stood in the doorway for several moments, perfectly still to watch and listen, feeling for any changes in the air. 

Ruri’iro Kujaku was alive. He lay on the floor of the tent looking quite disheveled, spiritual pressure startlingly faint; his breaths came out hoarse and shaky as he trembled on top of the blankets, but he existed - that much could be said, and the weight of the world faded from Yumichika’s shoulders as he continued to dumbly stand and stare.

For a while Yumichika searched for the right emotion. Should he be angry? Should he turn the blame on Ruri’iro Kujaku? Should he shut down? Should he just ignore the problem? Those were Yumichika’s usual tactics when spending time in this world, but at the moment every impulse seemed inappropriate. “I really missed you,” he heard himself say.

Ruri’iro Kujaku was molting. There were bare patches on his upper arms revealing raw pink skin. Sometimes this happened during times of stress; Yumichika had heard him screech and complain about it enough to know. He walked over to him and knelt, brushing his palm over the feathers. No part of his zanpakuto was off limits.

“You didn’t miss me, master.”

Yumichika froze. He hadn’t expected a reply. The spirit seemed unconscious, even now after having spoken.

He didn’t bother reacting to the accusation.

“Ruri’iro Kujaku?” Normally the use of his true name brought a swell of happiness to the his spiritual pressure, something Yumichika would have felt keenly - but nothing changed. “I thought I’d lost you somehow. I was actually scared...” He laughed at himself, pushing strands of hair from Kujaku’s face. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

The sound of wind chimes floated in as sunbeams fell across the spirit’s teal-green feathers. His eyes were half-open now, staring numbly at the wall as if deep in thought. Slowly they closed, and his brows drew up in pain. Yumichika had never seen him so weak. 

He took the silence as a cue to keep talking. “Where were you? I was so worried.”

“You’ve gotten so used to lying it’s like second nature.”

A twinge of anger snapped in Yumichika. He ignored it to the best of his ability. “Hush now. We may not always get along, but you know – we both know – I do care about you.” His fingers gently brushed the feather barbs apart on his zanpakuto’s arm. They felt so downy-soft he never wanted to stop.

Ruri’iro answered with a bitter laugh. He made a show of withdrawing his arm from his master’s touch and tilting his head back to avoid eye contact. “Always saying what I want to hear.”

Yumichika felt his face harden as he sat up. “Don’t act like this. You know how I feel.”

“I’m sure you understand how necessary I am to your career,” Ruri acknowledged, pushing himself upright with some effort. “Perhaps that could be mistaken for care at times.” His eyes landed on Yumichika’s and searched him. “But if you held even a hint of affection for me, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“What do you mean? I’m sure this disappearance thing was just a temporary side effect. Maybe one of those wounds blocked an important spiritual pathway. You know, like...” Yumichika trailed off, hoping Ruri’iro Kujaku would fill in the blanks.

The peacock sighed and shook his head. “You’re spouting nonsense.”

“Stop fighting me. We need to focus on getting our strength back.” He bit down his anger and touched the warm, pale cheek of his zanpakuto, a peace offering. “I need you.”

Sometimes looking at that face truly did  _ disgust _ him… but in other moments, it was almost hypnotically beautiful. He trained his gaze on stormy gray eyes - almost the same color as Ikkaku’s - now lowered in avoidance. Ruri’iro Kujaku’s brow was set with a dull and numb expression in comparison to the usual haughy arch. His soft, shapely lips were pressed together tightly.

Suddenly a bad feeling stirred in Yumichika’s chest. He wasn’t sure how to describe it - just  _ bad _ . He felt sick. The spiritual pressure he’d sensed when approaching Ruri’iro Kujaku earlier… its slow and steady decline drained the very oxygen from the air.

“...Well?” he demanded after the silence stretched too long. “Aren’t you going to lecture me about what I did wrong? Aren’t you going to tell me how to fix this?” He felt himself sweat the longer he waited. “You have to work with me, Ruri’iro Kujaku. You’re my zanpakuto.”

Ruri’iro Kujaku slowly pulled a feather from his arm and let it fall to the floor, where several others were already scattered. “Not anymore.” His passive expression finally melted into tears. “I’m dying.”

A dry knot siezed Yumichika’s throat. “Don’t be so overly dramatic, you stupid bird. You’re okay! You’re back!” To take the sting from his words, he ran his hands across the spirit’s face, brushing his tears away.

Dramatics were not a foreign occurrence in Ruri’iro Kujaku’s world. He was extremely mercurial and tended to have several mood swings in the span of one interaction; however, Yumichika had never seen him like this. Despairing. Even all those years ago, when his beloved shikai was rejected outright, Ruri’iro Kujaku had been too prideful to react in sadness. 

“You know just as well as I do what this is,” he whispered. “Don’t hide from reality. You’ll only waste time.”

“How can I possibly know unless you tell me?” Yumichika’s eyes fell to Ruri’iro Kujaku’s upper arm, where the feathers that usually lay flat and smooth against his skin seemed clumpy and out of sorts. He reached out to groom them in a feeble act of encouragement, but only managed to sweep them all to the floor in one stroke. The sight made him draw back in horror. He’d never seen a molt this bad before, not even at the worst of his zanpakuto’s many hissy fits. 

“Tell me what’s happening…” Yumichika raised his eyes as the panic began to win over. “Tell me, tell me now! I command it!” He stood to his feet to tower over the spirit. “Don’t think I won’t attack you in this state!”

But he had nothing to attack with. He seemed to have forgotten how to create the sword that usually appeared in his hands at will. In this place, bringing the sword into his hands took no effort whatsoever. Yet all that happened was a rather embarrassing display of concentrating on outstretched hands and, after a few moments, gesturing expectantly as if the sword was just stuck somewhere.

He grunted in exasperation and picked up the nearest object to throw. A light clatter resounded in the room, and then total silence. Ruri’iro Kujaku wasn’t watching him, wasn’t even truly awake it seemed. His head bowed, and his body went so still it could gather dust. He just kept staring in the opposite direction.

Yumichika lunged for him and began to shake him violently. “Ruri’iro Kujaku! Manifest, right now!” 

Emotionless, tired eyes settled on him. “I can’t.”

“Do it!” Yumichika gripped his arms and shoved him against the wall of the tent. “Manifest!” His mind went blank, fear and confusion seizing all conscious thought. He’d forgotten the command. How was that possible? No matter how hard he searched, nothing came to mind, so in his frustration he continued shaking the bird spirit back and forth like a rag doll. “Manifest, god  _ damn _ you!”

Ruri’iro Kujaku held out a hand to steady himself against the onslaught. 

“Why? Why?” Yumichika was beyond tempted to give that pathetic face a good slap. His palm itched to leave his zanpakuto beaten and humiliated, to show him who was in charge, to hurt him in a way that communicated nothing but disrespect. What else, if he insisted on acting like an unruly child?

But before Yumichika could even draw his hand back, he found all fervor suddenly drained from him, like steam from water. He fell to his knees and touched his temple in exasperation, staring at the floor of the tent. 

“Why won’t you answer my call?” 

Ruri’iro Kujaku raised an eyebrow at his master’s display, still leaning against the wall with his knees drawn up. “Because that part’s over. Sorry.”

_ It doesn’t make any sense…  _ Yumichika panted slowly, mouth agape as he made a great effort to regain mental focus.  _ Fuji Kujaku… no, Ruri’iro Kujaku… no… my zanpakuto doesn’t work anymore? _

Yumichika lifted his head and caught a glimpse of Ruri’iro Kujaku picking off his feathers. “Stop that,” he rasped, scrambling toward him and cupping his hand with forced gentleness. “Don’t… don’t let them all fall off.” 

Ruri’iro Kujaku smiled. “You’re so cute to worry about someone other than yourself. Though it really doesn’t suit you...”

His tone was casual, but the dark circles under his eyes and the feeble quietness about him spoke volumes. Yumichika had to grasp both his wists enough to hurt when he saw him rip out a handful of the beautiful teal feathers hanging from his arm. Ruri’iro Kujaku wasn’t strong enough to hold him off, but he frowned and struggled against the grip. Yumichika’s fingers and thumb touched with how thin his zanpakuto’s wrists were. Had he always been so lanky?

Face level, Yumichika moved closer to Ruri’iro Kujaku and squeezed. “Hey. Look at me.” No response. “Look.” He swallowed, closed his eyes, opened them back up, reached so deeply inside himself he wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. 

“Ruri’iro Kujaku.” Yumichika slowly loosened his grip, then slipped his hands into the spirit’s and held them in his lap, thumbs gently running back and forth across bony knuckles. “Listen. Hear what I’m saying, right now.” He had to pause and take a breath before continuing. “I’m not going to let this happen. I don’t care what the reason is, or whether you say it’s impossible. I’m going to fix this. I’ll never give up.”

At those words, he got the reaction he’d been hoping for. A flash of something like life crossed Ruri’iro Kujaku’s blank and distant face. However, he was soon to look away again and cover it up with suspicion. Sadly Yumichika could not blame him for that. 

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“What did you mean when you said that you were dying?” Yumichika prompted, keeping his voice soft.

Ruri’iro Kujaku rolled his head to the side. “I meant what I said. When all my power is gone, I’ll be gone too, and here I am, fading into nothing. Are you seeing it now?”

Yumichika swallowed. He still felt as if they were getting nowhere.

“I love you,” Ruri’iro whispered. He opened his eyes. “I’ve always loved you even though you didn't feel the same.”

“Don’t say that, you idiot. You know I... you know I do.”

“This is what I know.” Ruri’iro Kujaku gently pulled his master’s hand from his chest and leveled his eyes at him. “You don’t want me. You never have. And whatever part of you that did is no longer strong enough to keep me in existence. That’s what’s happening, master. I’m so weak, I couldn’t even manage to manifest after some silly injury, and now…” He sighed deeply, shoulders rising and falling. “Now I can feel that with every breath, I’m less and less - _me._  It’s like I’m already dead, and now I’m rotting into ash.” He glanced down at his waist and pulled off a few more feathers with little effort, smiling.

Yumichika soaked it all in slowly. Argument would get him nowhere fast, but it was the first thing he thought to do.

“Well, that's that,” Ruri’iro Kujaku continued. “You won’t have to worry about me interfering in your happiness much longer.”

Yumichika’s head shook back and forth. “You know I need you, no matter how much I say otherwise, I  _ need  _ you! You’re my zanpakuto, my other half!”

“What you need is a different zanpakuto, one that fits the soul you were born with. I was nothing more than a mistake; we weren't meant to be together.” As he spoke, Ruri’iro Kujaku looked somewhere past Yumichika, even though their eye contact never broke. “If we were, then I guess things have changed since then. You’ve decided you’d rather not have a power like mine. In a way, losing me is exactly what you wished for.”

“That’s not true! I’m sick of all this negativity, so would you please just stop for five seconds and tell me how to fix it?”

Ruri'iro Kujaku closed his eyes and laid back down, as if settling in for sleep. “I'm tired. You know what has to happen, so just do something or don't.”

The shinigami fumed. He opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden tremor cut off his words. Ruri’iro Kujaku acted like he didn’t even feel it, but Yumichika lurched aside as if the earth beneath them was crumbling. He scrambled to his feet and instinctively reached for his sword spirit, but somehow the setting itself had shifted. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the voice to call out, and by the time he did, Ikkaku was shaking him hard by the shoulders and he was back in his room, under the blankets, completely damp with sweat.

It took a few moments for Yumichika to regain his bearings. Once he did, he immediately cut off Ikkaku’s curious “What the fuck was that all about?”

“That son of a bitch!” Yumichika snarled, tossing off the blanket and heaving to his feet.

Ikkaku watched him wide-eyed. “Whoa, whoa, hold up! Who’s a son of a bitch? Yumi, what’s wrong with you?”

Yumichika started toward the door, but where was he going? He paused. Everything Ruri’iro Kujaku had just told him swirled around and around inside his heart. As much as he wanted to deny it, something serious was going on - and there was the distinct possibility that dramatic peacock was actually  _ not  _ exaggerating. There was also the distinct possibility he wouldn’t have the chance to get back inside his inner world, and that, at this very moment, his other half was being ripped from existence for stubbornness’ sake.

Now would be the perfect time.  _ Do it,  _ said a little voice in his head. Once it had been Ruri’iro Kujaku constantly badgering him to be revealed; now, it was like Yumichika’s own rationality. His own voice, his reason, his conscience.  _ Do it. Tell him. Just say there’s a problem with your zanpakuto, and you need to talk to him about something. Start off by saying you’re sorry, but you had a good reason to hide. He won’t care. He understands. He loves you for who you are. _

_ Who he THINKS you are,  _ said another part of his mind. And that one was so much easier to listen to.

“Nothing,” Yumichika snapped, not even looking back at Ikkaku before he walked outside and slammed the door shut behind him.


End file.
